Hermione Granger and The Lump in The Bed
by savinesnape
Summary: Hermione Granger has had a sheltered schooling at Hogwarts. Her Prince is waiting in the wings but something or someone is set on disturbing her beauty sleep. An irreverant spin on The Princess and The Pea. Not mine and no money is made from this.
1. Chapter 1

A long time ago in a castle far, far away – okay in the Highlands of Scotland – there lived a bushy-haired, buck-toothed know-it-all named Hermione Granger. She was the embodiment of the eternal bookworm; her nose was always stuck in a book. Every woman who met her didn't give her a second glance or another thought, she was not considered competition.

Not only was she a bookworm, she had a heart of gold. In the small village outside the castle where she studied, she served hot meals to the hungry, handed blankets to the poor, and she left clothing out for the homeless house-elves.

Hermione Granger was the darling of Gryffindor house and as such the head of her house and the school headmaster combined forces to protect her. They sought to do what no school had ever successfully done; let alone any parent. They sought to protect her from Cupid's poisonous arrows. They encouraged her friendship with two chaste companions and a special troop of men and women protected the three against the evils of darkness that lurked at the edge of their society.

Hermione lived an insulated life, men were discouraged from approaching her, love songs were not permitted within the confines of the castle, and all romantic stories were removed from the library.

In short, she was to be kept as pure as freshly fallen snow, as innocent as a new-born fawn until her kindness, purity and intellect attracted a worthy husband – preferably a prince. They hoped such a union would not only make her happy but would bring joy to their small corner of the United Kingdom chasing away the darkness that loomed.

By the time Hermione was seventeen, the headmasters plans seemed to have worked. Three men had asked for her hand in marriage. The king had rejected all but one: Prince Draco from a well to do family who had funded the school heavily over the years. Everything was going well – Hermione's gilded cage remained intact – until one morning she arrived for breakfast in the Great Hall, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

Immediately, her head of house stepped down from the teachers table and questioned the young girl.

"Why are you so tired? Did you not sleep well, my dear?"

"It's my bed," Hermione answered drowsily. "There was a lump under my rump all night!"

"A lump?" said the headmaster who had joined them at the Gryffindor table. He couldn't bear to see his top student suffer the slightest discomfort. "That is entirely unacceptable. I'll have Filch replace your mattress immediately."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Hermione replied as she gently massaged her backside.

The next morning, Hermione entered the Great Hall with the same look of sleepy discomfort on her face.

"What's wrong, my child," asked her head of house Minerva McGonagall.

"It was the lump again, Professor," answered the young woman. "It seems to poke and prod me from dusk until dawn."

"That's strange," said headmaster Dumbledore. "I thought Filch replaced your mattress."

"He did, Headmaster."

"Hmmm...Perhaps it's the beds frame. I'll have him replace that, too. You must look rested for the Ministry Ball when you will meet Prince Draco."

Hermione felt utterly discomforted. She was not looking forward to meeting the prince. Her sheltered life meant that she had to draw her knowledge of men from a protected distance. As such, she had two conflicted views of men. The noblemen visiting the castle always seemed far too shiny and sure of themselves, they certainly didn't need trumpeters to announce their arrival. She'd concluded that since all you needed to do to converse with them was to smile and nod your head that they were not worth her time. On the other hand, the men in the village seemed to spend all their time supping Butterbeer or downing shots of Firewhisky, they mumbled a great deal whenever they sometimes fell asleep seated. To communicate with them, the women folk often stood close to them, yelling as loud as they could and sometimes resorted to poking them brutally in the chest. Now, Draco was an infamous prince, so she concluded that he would require a lot of smiling and nodding, but she'd also observed that even noblewoman had to shout at their men sometimes, she was unsure of when to make the switch.

She also wasn't sure what to do with a man other than converse with him. She'd mostly observed men during Tournaments organised by the school were the men folk demonstrated their strategic battling skills with wands and non-verbal magic before spending the night carousing with one another. But she didn't partake in foolish wand waving nor did she drink or carouse, she failed to envisage much of a role for herself.

Then there was the stomaching-churning thing she's witnessed at two separate Yule feasts, when a man and woman had pressed their mouths together and appeared to be chewing the same piece of food. She'd never witness such gauche behaviour before so she hoped that she wouldn't be expected to partake of such a thing with Prince Draco, but she wasn't certain.

It was all utterly confusing; she wanted so much to talk with her fellow students about it. That wasn't permitted. Besides, at the moment, she was far too distracted by the current pain in her arse to discuss her intended bond mate.

At the following breakfast, she complained, yet again, of the uncomfortable lump.

"I thought Filch replaced your entire bed," lamented the headmaster.

"He did," said McGonagall, appearing vexed. "Perhaps the lump's not in the bed."

It took a moment for the comment to register in the headmasters lemon drop addled brain. When it did, he jumped to his feet. "Phoenix's!" he bellowed, his voice resonating from within his snow-white beard like thunder. "Fetch the Mediwitch!"

Moments later, the schools Mediwitch appeared. The Mediwitch, McGonagall and Hermione retired to a private chamber. The headmaster paced outside the door. After a few minutes everyone emerged smiling and relieved.

"All is as it should be, Headmaster," Mediwitch Pomfrey stated. "Miss Granger's behind is as round and soft as a lamb's."

"Thank goodness!" replied the headmaster. "So what's causing the sleepless nights?"

"I don't know, Headmaster. Perhaps it's the way she's sleeping."

Overhearing this, Hermione smiled. "No problem. I'll try to sleep differently tonight."

The next morning, Hermione's backside was as sore as ever, though only one cheek was affected since she had slept on her side.

"Impossibly!" rallied the headmaster, completely perplexed. "She has a new mattress, a new frame, and her bottom is as round and soft as a lamb's. Where in Merlin's name is the lump coming from?"

"There's something else," murmured Hermione as her cheeks coloured slightly. "It's no longer just a lump. Last night, I felt to see what it might be, and it began to grow. In fact, the more I felt it, the more it grew, until it became a most irregular shape."

"What kind of shape?" asked McGonagall, now more concerned than ever before.

Hermione looked around and picked up one of the large candles from the breakfast table. "Well, it was long and hard like this, except much thicker. And it was larger at the top, almost like a mushroom. And here, at the base, it had what felt like two apples, one on either side."

McGonagall dropped her fork onto her plate. The headmaster nearly choked on his buttered scone. As soon as he recovered, he stood and yelled, "Phoenix's, Fetch Auror Shacklebolt!"


	2. Chapter 2

A few minutes later, Auror Shacklebolt arrived. The headmaster quickly pulled him aside and with hushed tone informed the man of the bizarre happenings that were afflicting the schools brightest student.

"In her own bed!" he bellowed his face red with rage. "When I get hold of the perpetrator, I'm going to flay him alive. I'm going to swish and flick his nagger off and hang them from a pole, or better yet I shall give them to our Potions master to do with as he pleases."

"I understand, Headmaster," replied Shacklebolt. "I just can't explain how he got into her room. There are two guards posted nightly at her door and two more beneath her window. No one could get past."

"And yet, someone does appear to get past ... unless, of course, it is one of the guards!" Dumbledore hissed. "Have you noticed anything peculiar about their loins? Large lumps concealed by their robes – that sort of thing?"

"Forgive me, Headmaster. I am at loss at where you are going."

The headmaster described the culprit's package as described by Miss Granger earlier.

"Oh, it all becomes clear," Shacklebolt whispered. "Truthfully, that's not something I would ever dream of inspecting. Besides, don't her companions sleep with her? If a man entered her room surely they would raise the alarm."

"Perhaps they are unaware, perhaps he is using Dark magic, or perhaps there is some sort of secret passageway. The castle is forever changing, after all. That is why you must fetch Filch and meet me there."

The headmaster turned to face McGonagall and Hermione. "My dear, I want you to visit with Professors Vector and Sinistra for a few hours. Please do not discuss this matter with them. Minerva, I'd appreciate it if you would join me in Hermione's bedchamber to question her companions."

"Question my companions?"

"Do not worry, my dear. All shall be explained in due course. In the mean-time, please do as you are told."

The headmaster looked around Hermione's bedchamber, taking great care to investigate her companions' beds, which were placed so that they offered protection to her bed.

"Hmm," he pondered aloud. "He must crawl in beneath these two beds –"

Shacklebolt and Filch stared at the headmaster in disbelief.

"Sir, there is no passageway and the floor is solid stone," replied Shacklebolt.

"Then he must be coming in elsewhere," growled the headmaster. "Empty the room and check every crack, crevice and hole. Leave no stone unturned."

Meanwhile, McGonagall had completed questioning Miss Granger's companions. "They have seen nothing," she said. "They swear they have remained with Miss Granger all three nights and that no man has entered the room to their knowledge."

"Have they had any ... visitors ... poking around their beds?"

"No, but I'm not convinced that they are as chaste as we had hoped. They seem quite familiar with the ... object ... in question, although they have never heard or witnessed one so enormous. Frankly, neither have I, it seems almost mythical," McGonagall sighed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the headmaster hissed.

"Nothing. I only meant it was ... unusual ... by ordinary standards. Not that you are in any way ordinary Albus. Different things can be mythical in many different ways. After all, heroes are known for their deeds not the size of their... well, you know," McGonagall replied with a smile.

"Enough blathering, we need to concentrate on how in Merlin's name the villain is getting past four guards and two companions to assail Miss Granger. More importantly, how in the blue blazes are we going to stop the fiend?"

While the investigation continued in Hermione's bedchamber she arrived at the joint chambers of Professors Vector and Sinistra.

"Whatever is the matter, dear?" asked Sinistra the moment she opened the door to Hermione.

"It's nothing," whispered Hermione. "I've been forbidden to discuss it."

"Forbidden by whom?" asked Vector as she joined them.

"The headmaster – who else?"

"Poppycock!" said Sinistra. "What the old fool doesn't know won't hurt him. Now come tell us what has you so vexed and we shall see if we can't help."

Hermione smiled. Even though her professors seemed old they always seemed so modern compared to some of the other staff. She especially admired their bloody-minded independence.

The three women settled down on the big velvet sofa that occupied the space in front of the main rooms' fireplace.

"It all began with a lump in my rump," Hermione began. She continued to fill her professors in on what had happened over the previous three days.

"Oh, my dear girl," said Sinistra at the description of the mysterious object. "Has it hurt you?"

"I believe it's inside the mattress. How can it hurt me?"

"Oh, they have their ways," replied Vector, taking the younger woman's hand in her own. "Believe me, they have their ways."

"Who?" questioned Hermione.

"You said it was big. Exactly how big?" asked Sinistra, sidestepping the girls question.

"Well, I could easily place both my hands on it, one above the other, with room to spare above and below."

"Merlin's boxers! How thick was it?"

"Hmmm ... my fingers did not quite reach all the way around it."

"Prospero's prick!" muttered Vector. "Are you sure it wasn't just a clump of feathers!"

"I don't believe so. It grew when I touched it. In fact, the more I touched it, the bigger and harder it got."

"They do tend to do that," whispered Vector.

"What do?"

"And you are positive that you didn't dream it?" Sinistra sidestepped the question again.

"I don't think so."

"Now tell us, dear. You can trust us. You're not involved with someone, are you?"

"Of course not!" said Hermione. "Why? Does this have something to do with men?"

Her two professors exchanged a knowing look.

"You said you'd help me."

Sinistra offered an apologetic smile. "Believe me when I say we wish to help you, my dear. You have been kept in the dark too long, especially now that you are engaged. We've petitioned the headmaster many times to permit us to enlighten you, but this is a line he has forbidden us to cross. Given what has been happening, it is only right that we should seek his approval once more."

Hermione was desperate to press for more information. She hated not knowing something.

"In the meantime," said Vector. "Prince Draco will arrive in five days. Are you excited?"

"I suppose so," Hermione shrugged. "To be honest, I hate the idea of leaving Hogwarts. I'm a little nervous. What should I say when I meet him? How should I behave?"

"That is part of what we wish to discuss with you," replied Sinistra. "As for how to behave just be yourself, dear. Love will take care of the rest."

"Yes, but ... what if I don't like him let alone love him? What happens then?"

"Oh, that's perfectly normal," said Sinistra. "I didn't like my husband at first. He snored all night and had a terrible gas problem."

"Mine reminded me of a dog – he was covered head to toe in coarse hair."

"That sounds awful!" said Hermione.

"Oh, it was. We haven't even told you the worst part. But after a while, they grow on you."

"Ew, like a wart?"

"A wart you become accustomed to," Sinistra replied wistfully, "you miss it when it's gone."

"Over my dead body!" roared the headmaster. "Why do you think Prince Draco has chosen her to begin with? It's not just her intellect he seeks, he believes her to be as pure as fresh morning dew."

"We know, Headmaster," replied Professor Sinistra. "That was before a giant penis appeared in her bed. She should at least be made aware of what it is."

"I agree," said McGonagall.

"Me, too," said Vector.

"It hasn't simply appeared in her bed," replied the headmaster. "Some despot has crawled beneath her mattress and offended her from there. I have a solution. We'll put her in the dungeon."

"She's done nothing wrong!" replied the gathered women.

"It's to protect her, not punish her. There's no way a miscreant will dare to invade Professor Snape's realm. Don't worry, we'll make it comfortable. In the meantime, the Aurors are to check every loin in the castle. As soon as the culprit is caught we can quietly put this whole matter behind us."

Early the next morning, Auror Shacklebolt unlocked the door of the dungeon bedchamber to reveal the peaceful, well-rested, and happy face of Miss Hermione Granger.

"See," said the headmaster. "What did I tell you? She has been left undisturbed for the night and had a wonderful sleep."

"Actually," Hermione stated. "The reason I had a wonderful sleep is I found a good way to deal with this ... this intrusion that keeps appearing in my bed. Instead of sleeping on my back or side, where it prods my rump, I simply rolled over and put it betwixt my legs, where it fits perfectly and felt rather nice."

McGonagall almost fainted and was saved by the sturdy arms of Auror Shacklebolt. The headmaster turned a deathly pale shade of white.

"Whatever is the matter?" asked Hermione. "Don't you see? Whatever this thing is, it need not be a pain in my arse it can instead be a pleasure at my front."

The shocked silence bewildered the young woman. McGonagall was the first to rally and immediately yanked the headmaster to a secluded spot.

"I hope you're happy," she hissed. "Your unwillingness to enlighten the girl is now threatening to undo the very innocence you claim to protect. This is a fine pickle you've got us into."

"That's not the pickle I'm worried about," replied the headmaster.

"You have to let us tell her, so that she can defend herself."

"It's an omen," muttered the headmaster oblivious to what his deputy had just said. "An evil omen."

"The omen here is that our prized pupil is putting a giant, erect phallus between her legs and has no embarrassment about informing us that it feels good. Now, are you going to let me talk to her about this or not?"

"No!" replied the headmaster. "I want to consult with Sybil. She'll know how to deal with this ... this phantom phallus. In the meantime, tell her not to touch it again, or do anything with it, for that matter. Tell her it's evil and she's to stay away from it."


End file.
